


a twist of fate

by kingdra (aroceu)



Series: Generosity [38]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, M/M, Non-Linear Narrative
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-27
Updated: 2013-11-27
Packaged: 2018-01-02 18:51:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1060313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aroceu/pseuds/kingdra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry's a barista. Louis needs a lucky break.</p>
            </blockquote>





	a twist of fate

**Author's Note:**

  * For [coz](https://archiveofourown.org/users/coz/gifts).



Harry's a barista. Louis needs a lucky break.

 

 

Louis is in a band. This is how it starts. They're playing at the coffee shop that Harry works at, of which Louis is fully aware. He's twenty-one and the name tag on the curly-haired boy who works there all the time reads _Harry_. Between songs he asks if they want a drink.

"We're fine," says Louis, but Stan takes up the offer.

Harry grins at him. "You might be fine but your friends aren't," he says, preparing a macchiato. Louis knows because he's reading it on the cup, avoiding staring at Harry for too long.

"Well," says Louis.

Harry asks, "Sure you don't want a drink?"

Louis says, "I'm fine, really," and then they go onto the next song. Harry doesn't lean against the counter and watch them, because there are other customers. But he glances over once in a while.

*

Louis doesn't visit the coffee shop every day. He has gigs in other places. Sometimes they're schools, or other restaurants. He figures he must have some talent, because after a performance at one of the the bigger restaurants, Harry sees him after the show.

"Oh," says Louis, with some surprise. "It's you."

Harry's grinning. "It's me," he says. "I'm Harry, by the way."

"Yeah, I know," says Louis. When Harry looks surprised, he says, "I read your name tag? When we first met?"

"Oh, right." Harry has a dimple, which is very visible under the bluish lights. "Reading is a thing."

"Reading is a thing," Louis affirms. "I'm Louis."

"As I've heard your bandmates call you," says Harry. "You're good up there. Really good."

Louis isn't a blusher and he says, "Thanks." He thinks that if he could grin like Harry, though, he'd have dimples too.

"I'll see you around, then?" says Harry. "I don't really eat out a lot, and it's only my sister's graduation. But maybe next time I come out, you'll be playing again."

"Well I know what coffee place you work at," says Louis, and then immediately feels embarrassed. He's still not a blusher, though. (He hopes.) "Not that I'll come by—I mean, I suppose I could—"

Harry smiles. "That would be nice. Or you could have another gig there, coincidentally."

"Nah, it didn't pay too well last time," says Louis, and Harry laughs.

 

 

Louis is in university and trying for theatre. He supposes he slacks, but other days it's just really, really difficult for him to even get himself to think about school. His band has been a viable distraction from real worries, and he hasn't really had the opportunity to find blokes whom he's into just as much as they're into him.

 

 

It can go a number of ways.

 

 

(i.)

Louis and his band are playing at a bar. They still haven't settled on a name yet (because Stan keeps suggesting "The Rogue," the twat) but Louis thinks that they've developed a sound and they've gotten better. They perform and the crowd cheers, and Louis doesn't care if they're too smashed to hear the music or if they genuinely like it.

After that, they go off and get drinks. Louis's ordered only a pint when a voice somewhere behind him says, "Good job up there."

He turns around. Harry's there, with a beer in his hand. He looks older than Louis might've thought he'd been, under the strobe lights.

"We've accidentally met again," Louis says, and Harry grins.

"I suppose," he says. "Either that, or I've been hearing around that your band would play here tonight."

"That's also a good reason," says Louis. "You think I'm that good, huh?"

Harry's smirking around his drink. Louis shoves him and says, "Don't give me that look."

"No, no, you're good." Harry wipes off his mouth. "I'm thinking about joining a band, too."

"Oh, you play something?" Louis asks.

"Nah, I sing." Harry's smiling at him in that same way, again. "Any open positions in your band for a vocalist?"

"Considering I'm the only vocalist," says Louis, rocking his drink in his hand, "No."

"I'll fight you for the spot," says Harry.

"I fucking dare you."

Louis is grinning now, too.

Harry asks, "Wanna dance?" and Louis nods. The heat in the air is too much, or maybe it's just in his head. He follows Harry out to the dance floor. The DJ is remixing some of the CDs Louis handed him earlier, which Louis thinks is pretty incredible.

Harry is gangly and long-limbed and has hips like no other. Louis isn't really touching him of his own accord, but there are already so many people in the crowd that their bodies keep sliding up against each other. Harry's got his hands above his head and soon Louis doesn't know what else to do except put his hands on Harry's shoulders and just—dance into him. He can feel Harry's sweat against his skin.

"Dunno what we're doing," Harry murmurs, "but. D'you wanna go some place after this?"

"Yeah, my flat works," Louis says back.

So they do dance some more and drink a little, until it's bound to be nearly midnight and Harry asks, "Now?" with a little quirk of his eyebrows and dilated pupils.

Louis nods and says goodbye to his friends. They grab a cab and mostly since in silence through the whole ride, though Louis's sat himself in the middle seat and pressing his thigh against Harry's and Harry doesn't complain at all.

At Louis's flat, Harry kisses him almost immediately in shutting the door and Louis sort of laughs in his mouth and kisses back. He doesn't know why but he says against Harry's jaw, "You're probably a better singer than me."

Harry puts a finger over his mouth and kisses Louis's cheek. "That's irrelevant and subjective," he says. Louis grinds into him, because he's already hard.

He shows Harry his bedroom, and Harry kisses his cheek again. Louis pushes him onto his bed and kisses him hard, mouth open enough to taste as much of Harry as he can. Harry twists under him, back; Louis uses all of his weight to push him into his bed, which makes Harry do this stifled chuckle thing.

"You'd want to get the lube soon, I'd imagine," he says, and Louis almost manages to push a growl back in his throat.

"What if I teased you all night?" he asks.

"I don't think you'd want to," Harry says. "Or could." He's rubbing at Louis's dick through his jeans.

Louis grabs his wrists and says, "I totally could," mouth hot on his face. Harry's breathing is shallow too, he can hear, and he's looking at Louis with his mouth slightly parted and pupils so dark that Louis can see only a ring of green around them.

He tugs Harry's pants down and ignores his cock—Harry whines when it brushes against Louis's face, and Louis instead sinks lower. He flicks a tongue over Harry's balls and then he's at Harry's arse, though not particularly at the easiest angle.

He runs his tongue over Harry's hole anyways. Harry shudders, and, breathily, asks, "Do you want me to—"

"No," says Louis. He holds onto Harry's thighs and spreads them apart, mouthing at Harry's arse. Harry whines and moans and clenches, and Louis has to force his legs down to keep them from banging into his head.

Harry might've attempted to gasp out an apology, but then Louis's got a hand on his cock and runs a thumb over the head and Harry comes. It gets in Louis's hair and when Harry's done unwinding, he tries to sit up, puts a hand on Louis's cheek, says, "Sorry about—"

"Don't worry about it," says Louis, shaking his head. He glances at the drawer next to him. "I have lubricant and things in there, if you want to get it."

"Oh. Right." Harry does, and Louis prepares himself. "Um. Do you want me on my knees, or—?"

"Just like this is fine," says Louis. "However you like it, I suppose."

"I'd like fucking you," says Harry with his omnipresent grin.

Louis's cock twitches at this, but he says, "Maybe next time." He nudges Harry's legs and Harry spreads his thighs apart, arse raised a little into the air.

Louis pushes in. It's a different space and both he and Harry make a variety of groaning noises as he sinks in deeper. Harry asks midway, "Are you okay?" and Louis lets out little panting chuckles against his cheek, says, "That's something I should be asking you."

But he gets in with Harry watching him, eyes wide and intense. Louis kisses him on the mouth as he fucks him, says, "Are _you_ okay?"

"I—I am," Harry says against his cheek, and Louis thrusts, feeling Harry shudder, Harry's arms wrapping around him. Louis braces his arms and leans into Harry.

Harry whispers, "Come on, come on," runs his fingers down Louis's back and Louis doesn't know why he's encouraging him but it does something, it works. Louis bites down on his own lip and then Harry's kissing him, he's coming, practically smushing his face into Harry's.

*

Later, Louis trods to his kitchen (naked) to get a bag of crisps. When he comes back into his room, Harry's got one of his bedside books in his hands.

"Are you reading?" he asks incredulously, to which Harry puts the book down and grins.

"I'm intelligent," he says, and Louis scoffs. Harry's naked, too, barely with the blankets covering him. Louis hands him the crisps.

"You. Um," he says, suddenly nervous. "That was."

"Fun?" Harry suggests, mouth half full. After swallowing, "I wouldn't object to doing it again."

"Great! Great, me neither," says Louis.

"Right," says Harry.

They sit in Louis's bed, sort of but not really glancing over at each other. Then Harry asks, "Want to go out sometime, too?" and Louis says, "I was waiting for you to ask something like that."

"Well, you very easily could've asked _me_ ," says Harry, teasingly.

Louis nudges his nose against Harry's neck, and then his cheek. "I already knew I'd say yes."

"I'd say yes to you, too," says Harry, and Louis blows a raspberry on his face. 

Harry laughs.

 

 

(ii.)

A couple of weeks later, Louis finally builds up the courage to go back to the coffee shop. He doesn't know what to do or say—maybe he'll order a coffee, or something. He doesn't have his band to use as cover this time. Maybe Harry will make fun of him for it, and they'll create some sort of banter, or something.

It occurs to him, just as he's approaching the front door, that he doesn't know Harry's shifts at all. But Harry's behind the counter as usual (if one occurrence can be considered 'usual') and doesn't look up immediately when Louis comes in.

Louis waits in line. When it's his turn, Harry glances over and says, "You're here!"

"I'm here." Louis tries to keep his cool. To the cashier, he says, "I'll have a coffee, I guess."

"You've decided to visit me here?" Harry asks brightly.

Louis rolls his eyes. He ignores the dumb flipping feelings in his stomach, which aren't exactly the same as when he has an audition for school. "No, I've just decided to get a coffee today," he says, and nods in thanks after Harry hands the cup to the cashier, who gives it to him.

Harry's falls face a little and Louis can't help laughing. He doesn't know if he feels better or even more anxious. "I'm joking, I don't really drink coffee that much," he says.

"So you did come to visit me!" Harry's face lights up again.

"Yeah."

Louis doesn't know if he should sit and drink at the counter, where he can easily see (and talk to) Harry; or if he should go to a booth and not come off as clingy as he wants to be.

He opts for the booth.

Harry looks like he's having an internal crisis, and then he tells the cashier, "I'm going on break."

"You've been here for only thirty minutes!"

"So? I'm taking my break now." Harry takes off his apron and Louis watches as he leaves it on a back counter. Then Harry's shaking his hair out of his eyes and joining him at a booth.

"You didn't have to do that, you know," Louis says.

"Yeah I know," says Harry, and Louis suppresses a smile into his coffee. Then he makes a face and Harry laughs.

"You really don't drink coffee, do you?" Harry asks, and Louis shakes his head. For some reason, Harry looks delighted at this.

"Well," he says, almost shyly (but simultaneously coy. Louis wonders how he does it.) "If you want to meet up elsewhere, we can. I mean, I don't mind."

"Today?" Louis asks.

"If it's all right with you."

Harry steals some of his coffee and Louis finds that he's definitely all right with it. Then Harry crinkles his nose and says, "Ew, there's no sugar," and Louis says, "I don't know if I can trust you for that."

"We just won't get anything to drink, then," Harry says.

Louis's face hurts from smiling so much.

*

They decide to go to the cinema that evening, after Harry's shift. Louis stays in the coffee shop all day and doesn't go to his classes, instead shouting out things like, "I'm Diana!" when Harry calls out, "Cappuccino for Diana," and attempting to pour little bits of pepper in the salt jars when he thinks Harry isn't looking.

"I'm glad you had a fun time while I worked," Harry says, taking off his apron.

Louis pats his cheek. "You can join me next time," he says. "Or we'll have fun now! In the movies and such."

"What do you want to see?" Harry asks.

They make their way out of the cafe. It's a little past four o'clock and the theatre is a few blocks down. They talk about movies on their way there, and Louis thinks that maybe, by accident, Harry's hand brushes against his own. He doesn't comment on it, though, and Louis worries that if it is on accident (it is on accident, he tells himself) holding his hand, then, would be a bit awkward.

Louis settles on a movie eventually because Harry keeps shrugging and saying, "I don't care." They end up with some action movie that was released weeks ago, and even though they're not the only ones in the theatre, they throw popcorn at the screen during the cheesy and over-adorning love scenes. Harry laughs when someone in front of them throws popcorn at them instead and it hits Louis square on the nose.

"My pain is not amusing," he says to Harry.

"It is when you kind of deserve it," says Harry, and Louis pouts. 

"Well you deserve this!" he says, and pours the rest of his popcorn all over Harry.

Harry lets out a little shriek that garners a few head turns (faintly, Louis wonders why they haven't been kicked out yet.) "Wha," he exclaims, along with some unintelligible noise of indignation. "You've wasted all your popcorn! And I'm all buttery!"

"It's not wasted." Louis plucks a piece of popcorn from Harry's hair. "I can still eat this perfectly fine."

Harry tries to shake some popcorn onto him, but then someone behind them enunciates, "Shh!" very loudly. Harry tries to turn around and say, "He started it—"

"Yeah, Harry," says Louis, smirking at him through the dark. "Shh."

When the movie's over, it's not entirely late but Harry says, "I have to go home. That was fun though."

"You've still got popcorn in your hair." Amused, Louis takes another one out. After a moment, he eats it.

Harry's beaming at him under the streetlights. A second later and his mouth is on Louis's, a little longer than ten seconds but not long enough for Louis to snog him properly. He smells—and tastes strongly of—popcorn. 

When he pulls away, Louis says, inexplicably breathless, "Yeah, I ought to go, too."

He and Harry watch each other for a second. Then Louis remembers where they are and says, "And, ah, can I have your number?"

"Oh! Yeah. Of course."

They exchange numbers and then Harry hands his phone back. "I'll see you later?" he says.

"I'll text you," Louis says. 

Harry walks away. But he looks back at least three times to where Louis is still standing, waving at him, and Louis's fingers go a little tighter around his phone.

 

 

(iii.)

They do play at the coffee shop Harry works at again, partly (entirely) because Louis had suggested it and the pay hadn't been _that_ bad. Harry isn't there at first, but at the two o'clock hour the door chimes ring and Louis sees, from the corner of his eye, Harry entering with bleary half-awake eyes.

He looks surprised to see Louis and his band, but Louis catches the smile on his face. They place a couple of more songs before calling out for a break. 

Harry leans over the counter to talk to them and Louis tries to focus on staring at an eyebrow more than anything else.

"Playing here again?" he asks, mostly at Louis. 

"Well, obviously. We've been here for a while," Louis replies.

Harry grins. He looks so homey in his work apron that it's endearing, and Louis self-consciously takes a step back in case he's staring too hard. 

Harry says, "Where are you playing next? Do you have lots of gigs?"

"Not really, we try to get one once a week," says Louis. "But we're usually not that lucky."

"This is the third week and third show I've seen you. I'd say that's pretty lucky."

Someone calls, "Break's over!" and Harry says, "Guess you better get back to your singing, then."

Louis says, "Yeah, you'd like that, wouldn't you?" Harry gives him an incredulous look at this, like _what are you_. Louis thinks at this point he and Harry might be friends.

Between their next song, Harry calls up, "You should tell me the next show you play at!"

"Why, so you can crash it?" Louis asks, and Harry's laugh sounds louder than the speakers in his ears.

*

After that show, Louis does get Harry's number and the next time they've booked a gig, Louis texts him, _show tonight, you wanna come?!_ Harry texts back, _You know I do_ , and Louis smiles all stupid-like as he gives him the details.

Tonight's show is at a fancy restaurant. Louis spots Harry in the crowd, wearing a dark blue blazer and curly sticking up hair. Louis almost trips on his mic stand, before Stan pulls him back.

"This one's for a friend," he says to the crowd before a song, and does his best to visibly wink at Harry. A few people try to see who he's winking at, but he's sure he makes out a smile on Harry's face.

Harry watches him perform. Louis never feels particularly nervous on stages, when he knows he's got the hang of it—even when he does trip on his mic stand and practically lands on a woman in the crowd, he gets back up perfectly fine and sees Harry bent over in pieces, laughing at him.

"Excellent performance," Harry says when Louis's done. He's met him backstage and presses his hair back. "Stellar."

"Thanks. Not so bad yourself," Louis says, resting his water bottle down. "Are you here alone or something?"

"Yeah. It's fine, though, I get to watch you perform."

Harry looks genuine and Louis says, "No, come on. We're eating in the back. And you deserve some, since you're practically part of the band now."

Harry laughs. "I am not."

"The most loyal fan, then. The biggest fan we'll ever have." Louis's grinning at him. He adds in singsong, "It's free and you won't have to eat it all by yourself."

"Well, since you've insisted," says Harry.

He bumps shoulders with Louis and Louis bumps back.

*

After the fifth show Harry's at only because Louis's texted him, Louis says, "Thanks, you— I mean, you don't have to come to every show I tell you about."

"You mean that there are ones you haven't told me about?" Harry says, with maybe a trace of seriousness in his voice.

Louis's lips quirk into a smile, anyway.

"I like watching you perform," says Harry. "If it hasn't been obvious enough. I'm not going to miss an opportunity."

"Oh, please miss one, we're honestly not that great," says Louis honestly.

Harry actually puts a finger on Louis's mouth, to which Louis doesn't know whether to laugh or bite at said finger. "I'm your biggest fan, remember," he reminds Louis.

Louis bites at his hand this time and Harry yelps. "Yes, I remember," he says. "Your dedication is overwhelming and flattering. Please never stop worshipping me."

"I definitely won't," says Harry.

Somehow his hand has woven into Louis's, but had been so natural that Louis doesn't notice until now. And then Harry's placing a light kiss on his cheek, promises, "Even if you tell me to, I'm not going to miss a show."

*

Harry's got his trousers at his ankles and Louis's hand is at the base of his prick, tugging him gently into his mouth. Harry's making these half-gasping noises, like he's trying not to be so loud. Which, Louis figures as he mouths at Harry's cock, is not working out so well.

"Louis," Harry murmurs. He threads his fingers into Louis's hair which is more affectionate than they are usually. Louis takes Harry's cock out of his mouth and runs it along his cheek, licks at the base.

His own jacket is discarded because it's gotten too hot in here. He supposes that with Harry's trousers off, that's enough for him. He runs his lips down Harry's cock, takes in as much of him as he can; his hand is slightly sore but he strokes Harry off in his mouth anyways, licking back down to the tip. He adjusts himself and attempts to get more comfortable on the floor, both while tonguing desperately over the head.

Louis straightens himself up a little and thrusts Harry into his mouth—maybe a bit too much, as he chokes a little—and then Harry's going, "Louis," again and his hand tightens in Louis's hair and he's coming into Louis's mouth. Louis tries to pull away for a better angle, but with Harry's hand still on him he kind of jerks away a little too much and Harry comes on his face.

"Shit, sorry about that," Harry says, looking down at him. Louis sees Harry's eyes trace over his come stained cheeks.

"You're not that sorry, are you," he says, and Harry says, "Well maybe not completely."

"Arse," Louis says, and Harry bends down to wipe some of his come off, affectionately.

Louis's band comes around the corner then, making enough noise that Harry's at the least got his pants on when they spot them. Stan groans, "Not _again_. Right before a show, you two? Really?"

"I've got to entertain the groupie at some point," Louis says.

Harry says indignantly, "I am no groupie."

"Of course you're not," says Louis. "Now put your trousers back on."

"Wash your face," says Harry."

"Wash it for me."

"I will." Harry leans over and licks his face. 

They hear a chorus of sounds of disgust. Louis laughs.

 

 

(This is how it really goes.)

 

 

Louis is leaving the fancy restaurant gig and feeling confused and younger than maybe he does usually. It's an okay feeling.

Behind him, there's a shout that goes, "Louis!" or at least it sounds that way.

Louis turns around.

Harry's running up to him, all beaming and a little cake-faced, probably because of his sister's graduation dinner. He says, "Hi," very breathlessly, and Louis says, "Hi," back, mostly light-headed.

Harry smells faintly like champagne and Louis wants to know if he tastes like it, too.

"I've," Harry says, and then jostles his hands in his trouser pockets. He's looking down all of a sudden.

"What?" Louis asks.

"You wanna," Harry starts, and then he looks up at him. His eyes are bright and green and focused on Louis's. 

"Do you want my number," he says, "and go out sometime?"

It's faster and not as coincidental and not what Louis expects at all. Harry's asking _him_ , and they've really only barely met, and they're the only two of few people left standing in front of the restaurant. Maybe Louis's band and Harry's family are waiting somewhere behind them. Louis isn't sure.

But Harry looks hopeful and Louis wonders how lucky he is, or how he's gotten, because he says, "Definitely," and Harry's face is bright.

 

 

And Louis finds that Harry's better than he could imagine.


End file.
